Fortunado's Amontillado
by Wood Phoenix
Summary: The murder story based on Poe's classic


Montresor had a cask of Amontillado, or so he claimed. Better yet, he wanted me, Fortunado, to test the alleged Amontillado. Figuring it was well worth missing a few minutes of the festivities, I eagerly accepted.   
  
We walked down into the dark hallways of his wine cellar. It was dim, musty, and gave me a creepy feeling. The same type of disposition you would feel when walking through a gravesite or tomb.   
  
Montresor told me. Herein is the Amontillado. As for Luchesi-   
  
He is an ignoramus, I said, interrupting him. Why is he still insistent on going to Luchesi when surely he knows that I am the better wine connoisseur?   
  
I stepped unsteadily forward, Montresor following at my heals. When I went inside the niche, I stood bewildered as I was blocked by the solid rock wall. After a short pause, he chained me to wall in the crevice!   
  
There were two iron staples in the wall, about two feet apart horizontally. One had a padlock hanging from it, and on the other hung a short chain. He started throwing the chain links around my waist, but I was too surprised to oppose him. Finally, he locked the padlock, withdrew the key, and stepped back.   
  
Pass your hand over the wall; you cannot help feeling the niter. Indeed it is very damp. Once more let me implore you to return. No? Then I must positively leave you. But I must first render you all the little attentions in my power. He said tauntingly.   
  
The Amontillado! I shouted, still quite astounded.   
  
he replied. The Amontillado.   
  
Throwing aside some bones, he soon uncovered a large pile of building stone and mortar. Using this and his trowel, he proceeded to wall up the entrance of the niche!   
  
After laying the first tier, Montresor, as well as I, was beginning to discover that my intoxication was wearing off. There was a long and reluctant silence as he laid the second and third levels. As he was laying the fourth, I began to vigorously rattle the chains in an effort to free myself. Much to my satisfaction, he stopped building the wall and sat down upon some bones nearby. After clanging the chains for several minutes, I stood still, realizing it was useless. He picked up the trowel again, and continued bricking, paying no attention to my subsided clatter.   
  
The wall reached a few inches below my neck now, for he had just finished the fifth, sixth, as well as the seventh tier. I then began to realize that this just may not be a joke.   
  
I shouted and screamed at him, trying with all my effort to resist the chains. He was thrown violently back in shock. For a short moment, he hesitated, and I could have sworn I saw him tremble.   
  
In an effort to quiet me, I suppose, he unsheathed his rapier and searched rather blindly around the recess. He reproached the wall and shouted with me, echoing my screams as they grew louder and stronger. Finally, I stood still once again.   
  
I estimated that it was now about midnight, and Montresor's work was near finished. He completed the eighth, ninth, and tenth tiers, as well as a portion of the eleventh and final layer. There remained only one stone to be fitted and plastered in. I could still see him vaguely through the opening, and he seemed to struggle a bit with the weight of the last stone. He partially placed it into its destined position that would complete the wall in front of me.   
  
Then I realized that this was a joke. Just for carnival. He was playing a joke on me! And a right good one too. I laughed at the thought.   
  
Ha! ha! ha!- he! he!- a very good joke indeed- an excellent jest. We will have many a rich laugh about it at the palazzo- he! he! he!- over our wine- he! he! he! I said, laughing.   
  
The Amontillado. Montresor said.   
  
He! he! he!- he! he! he!- yes, the Amontillado. But is it not getting late? Will not they be waiting for us at the palazzo, the Lady Fortunado and the rest? Let us be gone. I said, rather brightly.   
  
he said grimly. Let us be gone.   
  
He was not joking. For the love of God, Montresor!   
  
he replied again. For the love of God.   
  
I stood still. This was not a joke. I was going to die here. He was planning on killing me all along. And there certainly was no cask of Amontillado.   
  
Wondering at my sudden stillness, he called out,   
  
I did not give him the satisfaction of an answer.   
  
He called again.   
  
Once again I stood silent. He thrust a torch through the opening where the last stone belongs, giving minimal light in the niche. The bells on my hat jingled as I lowered my head and stared into the slowly dying flame. Montresor forced the last stone into its position at last, and plastered it up. I could hear the faint clatter of bones as he threw them against the newly constructed wall for good measure. I heard footsteps, then he stopped and turned in the direction of the wall in front of me. In pace requiescat! He said quietly, then left. 


End file.
